A Real Dressing Down
by JWood201
Summary: Do clothes make the man? A selection of short chapters about the castaways' signature clothes. UPDATED 1/5.
1. Socks

_Inspired by Teobi's Dusty's Trail drabbles, this will be a place for me to post a collection of little stories that aren't significant enough to stand alone. The theme, I've come to discover, is clothing (accessories, laundry, etc) and what these things say about the character. The castaways are so easily identified by their signature outfits, recognizable all over the world, easy to do as Halloween costumes, that it almost seems important to bring attention to it._

_Proffy's socks always make me giggle, so here's the world's first Sockfic. o.O It's G/P, of course._

**Socks**

Professor Roy Hinkley is not a fashionable man. He doesn't need to be. He's worn a variation of the same outfit every day for years. His students wore a uniform and so did he. It was reliable, comfortable, and practical.

He was like Fred Flintstone.

Or Gilligan.

He owns one nice suit and twelve lab coats. On special occasions he dons his wool jacket with the leather elbow patches.

He knows his pants are too short, but it's not something to be concerned about. He knows he pulls his socks all the way up, but there are practical reasons for this.

No one wants bugs up their pant legs or poison ivy on their ankles.

Occasionally, in a rare moment of vanity, he contemplates fixing them. He's not a total egghead, despite what Mr. Howell says. He considers pulling his socks down just an inch or two, to let them wrinkle naturally, casually, as if he hadn't noticed.

He never contemplates this for long, though, because there are more important things to think about on the island. Fresh water, food, headhunters, keeping Gilligan away from his latest experiment. He also doesn't contemplate it very long because eventually Ginger will wander by.

Her eyes will flicker to his socks and she'll arch one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. She always grins at him teasingly, calls him "grandpa" or asks where his kilt is. Ginger winks at him, giggles at the dumbfounded look on his face, and squeezes his shoulder affectionately as she passes.

He briefly contemplates fixing his socks, but, after all, no one wants bugs up their pant legs or poison ivy on their ankles...


	2. Patriots

**Patriots**

When Gilligan, the Professor, and the Skipper go marching through the jungle they look like a walking advertisement for the United States of America.

A solid wall of red, white, and blue.

They do this quite often and for a variety of reasons. Find more fresh water. Scout around for a wild animal someone spotted. Collect building supplies.

Hunt and gather. Build their nation. Protect the women.

Proud. Determined. On a mission.

But then Gilligan trips.

Or they scramble all over each other to hide in the underbrush when they think they hear a headhunter coming. Usually it's just a monkey, who makes it a point to stop and laugh at them.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, this is isn't supposed to come across as some sort of commentary on America, even though we are quite silly sometimes. It just made me laugh because this is exactly what happens. They start out all manly and tough and then end up hiding in the bushes. :)<em>


	3. Shorts

**Shorts**

The irony is not lost on Mary Ann.

Ginger Grant is the beautiful one. The sultry, sensuous one who has gone on more dates than she can count and who routinely had to step over the men throwing themselves at her feet.

Mary Ann Summers is the sweet one. The innocent, naïve one who's had one boyfriend in her lifetime and can only get Gilligan to notice her if she has a coconut crème pie in one hand and a stack of comic books in the other.

But one day she realizes with a flash of enlightenment, and a touch of shame, that Ginger wears three times as much clothing as she does.

Mary Ann doesn't do it on purpose. Her outfits are comfortable. At home they allowed her to do her chores and ride horses and run through the fields. On the island they allow her to do her chores and swing on vines and run through the jungle exploring with Gilligan.

Plus, it's hot in Kansas. Toiling in the fields is not pleasant work and extra fabric clinging to sweaty skin is just one more annoyance to slow down the pace. All the girls walked around in short shorts in the summer and no one gave it a second thought.

Except that creep Horace Higgenbotham, who walked straight into a wall one sweltering day in August when Mary Ann and her three best friends were standing around outside the ice cream stand. The four of them were just too much for him and they were shocked, standing there open-mouthed with their ice cream cones and their hair ribbons and their youthful reliance on all the local boys to be respectful and gallant and chivalrous just like their older brothers and cousins.

It's hot on the island, too. Toiling in her vegetable garden is much more pleasant than the fields at home, but it's still for practical purposes that she dons her cute little crop tops and shorts that are cut at an angle that she hopes makes her look taller and no one gives it a second thought.

She's older and wiser now. The Horace incident pops up in her consciousness every so often while she's getting dressed and she's occasionally wondered how it would have been different if he wasn't being a total creep and if she actually liked him.

Mary Ann is doing the dishes one day when out of the corner of her eye she spies Gilligan wander past on the edge of the clearing. It's humid and the temperature has to be at least 95 degrees and she wonders how he wears that long-sleeved shirt on days like this. Mary Ann leans further over the edge of the deep sink and reaches blindly into the suds for a missing spoon. She covertly peers at Gilligan through her bangs and is secretly thrilled to notice him watching her.

Mary Ann winces as Gilligan walks straight into a tree. He staggers back a few steps, holds his hat to his head. He glances at Mary Ann to make sure she didn't see, but she's already hiding her smile in the thick soapy water.


	4. Packing

**Packing**

Gowns. Dresses. Skirts. Pants. Shorts. Tops. Long sleeved. Short sleeved. No sleeved. T-shirts. Turtlenecks. Crop tops.

High heels. Kitten heels. Flats. Sneakers.

Hats. Sunglasses. Purses. Socks. Unmentionables.

Mirrors. Hair brushes. Hair pins. Hair ribbons.

Foundation. Blush. Mascara. Eyeliner. Eye shadow. Lipstick. Nail polish. Nail polish _remover_. _**False eyelashes**_**.**

Bathing suits. Bathing _caps_.

Pajamas.

_Pajamas?_

With the hut finally completed and darkness descending over the island, Ginger and Mary Ann stared into the depths of their suitcases and then at each other.

No. No pajamas.

To be fair, who brings pajamas on a three hour tour? Then again, who brings nail polish remover and more than one pair of shoes on a three hour tour?

Mr. Howell sauntered by in his fancy robe with his initials stitched on the pocket, adjusted his ascot, and tucked his teddy bear under his arm. His wife was behind the blanket in the communal hut in her expensive chiffon nightgown and diamonds.

The Professor gallantly donated his extra shirt to the cause and Mary Ann took it gratefully, but Ginger seemed less concerned.

The first time some nocturnal crisis drew them from the hut in the middle of the night, the Professor nearly tripped at the sight of Mary Ann in nothing but his extra shirt. On her petite frame it hung long enough to be a nightshirt, but not long enough to be modest. Then Ginger scurried out of the hut behind her wrapped only in an orange blanket salvaged from the Minnow and the Professor walked right into the Skipper, who looked about ready to topple over in the sand himself.

Gilligan wasn't paying attention, too busy running around in circles panicking until he ran past Mary Ann, who was watching him in wide-eyed confusion, the unbuttoned collar of the Professor's shirt having slid down off one bare shoulder, and he ran right into the Skipper and the Professor and landed flat on his back in the sand. Mary Ann dropped to her knees and hovered over him and he slapped his hat over his eyes and tried to crawl away, slamming his head on the table more than once in the process.

Over the years, Mary Ann had expanded their wardrobe considerably, piecing together old clothes and other fabric that had washed ashore into new outfits. Whenever she asked Ginger about pajamas, the actress would shrug and respond that she never wore them on the mainland, so why start now.

"Because you have a roommate?"

Ginger would shrug again, peer into the mirror. "In the theatre, I once had to do a quick change in the wings in eight seconds with twelve stagehands watching. Big deal. You can make some for you, though."

But Mary Ann never got around to it. The Professor hadn't asked for his shirt back and it was comfortable. There was always something more important to do on the island and she was kept busy with other sewing projects. Mrs. Howell always had an idea for a new dress and the holes in Gilligan's pockets grew back faster than she could mend them.

"Besides," Ginger added one time during this recurring conversation, "it's fun to watch the men squirm after they panic over something and call us outside in the middle of the night and we show up dressed like that." Ginger smirked, careful not to smudge the lipstick she was carefully applying. "I'm starting to think they do it on purpose."

Mary Ann rolled her eyes. "Invent native war drums just so we'll run outside and into their arms in our pajamas?"

Ginger raised her eyebrows. "What pajamas?"

* * *

><p><em>There's no point to this. Just wanted to comment on the irony of having packed EVERYTHING ELSE, but no pajamas. (I've totally done that, though).<em>


	5. Shirt

**Shirt**

Gilligan's shirt isn't even Gilligan's shirt.

He didn't realize he'd thrown it into his suitcase when he moved to Hawaii until his brother called him.

_Where's my shirt?! I know you still have it!_

He glanced down at the offending red fabric, clutched the receiver. _No, I don't!_

_Gilligan!_

Even other Gilligans called him Gilligan.

But he loves that shirt. It's why he borrowed it in the first place. It's comfortable and it's bright and he doesn't know why, but he had a strong feeling that he should bring something red with him.

The Skipper always said he liked it when he wore it because it was easier to fish him out of the water when he inevitably fell in. It makes him stand out. People see him coming.

_Hurry up, Gilligan's coming!_

_Hurry up and take down the clean laundry before he runs through the line._

_Hurry up and secure the experiment before he spills it all over the table._

_Hurry up and get out of the way!_

Gilligan is his own warning system. The flash of red through the leaves.

The crimson blur signaling a catastrophe or a sigh, a laugh or an adventure.

Everyone skirts to the side when they see him coming, but not Mary Ann. She stays put, in the middle of the clearing, oftentimes in her red bandana top or her red gingham dress, which is not lost on Ginger. She waits patiently, with an open mind and an open heart, and more often than not they take off together, two flashes of red through the leaves, crimson blurs on a loud and colorful journey.


	6. Complimentary

**Complimentary**

It takes Mary Ann three times as long to get dressed in the morning now.

It started innocently enough.

She asked Ginger a question about a costume she wore in a movie once. Mary Ann had learned how to sew at an early age and enjoyed making things for herself and her cousins and her dolls, so she was always fascinated by the luscious costumes she saw in the movies.

Of course this simple question turned into another installment of Ginger Grant's Hollywood Lecture Series. It was admittedly interesting, but Ginger dropped names faster than Mary Ann could pick them up and she wasn't sure if the movie star's stories were one hundred percent true one hundred percent of the time.

Ginger had apparently been dressed by Adrian, Walter Plunkett, Edith Head (on multiple occasions), a new young designer named Nolan Miller, among others. Travilla loved her because he could use the same patterns he used for Marilyn – without alteration.

Ginger told her about proportion and character building and silhouette. When she got to color she stopped applying her makeup and glanced at Mary Ann side-long. "You wear a lot of red," the movie star observed. "And blue."

Mary Ann froze halfway out of her bamboo wardrobe, her red bandana-patterned top clutched in one hand. "So?" She tossed the shirt back in and pulled out a green one.

Ginger smirked and peered into the mirror again. "Color choice is very important. Did you know that costume designers dress families or romantic couples in the same or complimentary colors to show their relationships?"

Ginger waited through the hesitant silence that preceded a quiet, "No, they don't."

"Mary Ann, every part of a movie or television show is contrived to make the audience think a certain way." Ginger tapped her temple with her makeup brush. "Our own special brand of mind control." She grinned while she let that sink in, rooting around on the vanity table for her mascara.

Mary Ann harrumphed. "That's ridiculous. Color TV doesn't even exist yet."

"I heard on the radio that it's brand new this year." Ginger shrugged. "Believe what you want, Mary Ann, but designers have told me this. Why do you think I wear my white beaded gown whenever we have a party?"

"Because it's your fanciest dress?" Ginger shook her head and Mary Ann's eyes widened. She pulled a stool over to the vanity table and sat down beside the movie star. "Why?"

"Because I know the Professor will wear his brown jacket. My white dress compliments the neutral colors of his outfit. I could wear green or orange or pink, but then we wouldn't look right."

Mary Ann's eyes widened even more, if possible. "Does he know what you're doing?"

Ginger shrugged slightly as she slid her mascara brush along long lashes. "Subconsciously, I suppose. But this is one area where I outsmart him. He'll catch on eventually to the fact that there's something flattering about us, but he may not realize what caused it."

"That's … wow."

"What color is your gingham dress, Mary Ann?"

"Red. You know that."

"And your nice dress with the flowers?"

"Red."

"And the shirt you almost wore today?"

"Red."

"And Gilligan's shirt?"

"Red – oh, Ginger!" Mary Ann leapt from the stool and moved away from the movie star. "Stop it. That's not fair. It's the only outfit he has."

"But you have more choices and, more often than not, you choose red. You don't even realize what you're doing, do you? You never wear that brown and dark blue shirt anymore. Or your pink and orange outfit. And you –."

"Well, I'm not wearing red today!"

"You almost did."

"But I'm not. I'm wearing green!" Mary Ann almost yelled as she started for the door.

"That's fine," Ginger replied calmly. Mary Ann slowed to a stop, one hand pressed against the bamboo door, brows drawing together in thought. Ginger turned toward her roommate and smiled warmly at her. "Red and green are complimentary colors."


End file.
